Wake Up-The Song of Ahkaten
by Betsu
Summary: Just a short song-fic.


"Doctor, no!" A young woman collapsed next to the fallen man, the fallen time lord, her fallen Doctor.

"Doctor, don't you dare die. Don't you dare." she growled, tears welling in her eyes. She brushed the hair from his face, trying to get his attention. His eyes were unfocused; she could see the light going from them. And it was all her fault.

He wouldn't regenerate this time, as he promised he would. She hadn't understood how, it hadn't mattered, but what she did understand was that things had gone wrong. She had let slip about him, because she just HAD to tell someone. And now he was dying.

The Doctor had shown her so much in so little time. They had only been together two days, and yet it felt like the knowledge of the years had crammed itself inside of her head. No, wait, it had...or at least a portion of it.

The Doctor's eyes fluttered weakly. His mouth opened, trying to say something, and a beautiful glowing golden wisp escaped his lips. Regeneration energy, the last of his. Something inside forced her forward, forced her face over the light.

It seeped into her eyes, expanding inside her, filling her body, filling her mind. It began to burn, a deep, unquenchable burn, soul deep. Thoughts and images flashed through her head, knowledge like nothing she'd ever known. A voice, somehow different from all the rest now screaming in her mind, began to whisper.

It sounded like a song.

"A story to save the fallen. We must wake him. Wake my Time Lord." Then it was gone, the song overshadowing all else. Anna looked at the Doctor, just clinging by the barest of threads, and sang. It was stilted and shaky. She had never been so scared, and the pain was still gnawing at her.

The Doctor's eyes closed.

A tear slid down her cheek before she closed her own eyes. Somehow she knew that this song, this story, was the only thing that could save the Doctor's life, and it required more than she was giving. She needed precision, and above that, heart, maybe even her very soul. And so she opened herself, more on the line than ever before, and sang.

"Rest now my warrior.

Rest now, your shame is over."

The discordance between what she wanted him to do and what she was saying struck her for a moment. The next words made much more sense to her. Her voice picked up as she sang, confidence in what she was doing growing.

"Live.

Wake up."

She put each memory, each joke and story the Doctor had told her, into her song. She poured forth every single emotion she had ever felt while with him, every thought she'd had, every smile they'd shared.

"Wake up.

And let the cloak of light,

cling to your bones,

cling to your bones."

It was a prayer, a plea. Yet with each word, the pain grew worse, the heat spread.

"Wake up.

Wake up."

Fire furled through every part of her being, every strand of hair, every molecule. A scream built in her throat, but she refused to let it out. She had to stay steady.

"And let the cloak of light,

cling to your bones...

cling to your bones.

Wake up."

The scream refused to be dissipated and so she used it. One last imploration to whoever and whatever was out there, helping her. One last demand on the Doctor that had given her so much already.

"Wake up!" She ceded to the scream only for that same golden light, that wisp of energy, to go with it.

The light shot into the Doctor, jolting him, making him convulse on the floor. His eyes shot open, but the song still rang through her head. She nearly stammered to keep up with it.

"Wake up.

Wake up.

And let the cloak of light,

cling to your bones,

cling to your bones."

The regeneration energy poured from her and straight into the Doctor in a steady swirling stream. Something cold inside her was tugged along, beside the liquid fire. As she sang, it rushed out quicker and quicker, streaking the brilliant gold of the regeneration energy with a muddied red, before drifting up into the empty air of the TARDIS. The pain faded, and she dared to smile, but everything was going blurry around the edges. She saw wonder on her Doctor's face, but he was frowning. Why was he frowning at her?

"Wake up.

Wake up."

It was a struggle suddenly to get the words out. She was so tired, so very tired. There was a growing void inside her where once there was life.

"Wake up.

Wake up..."

This was it, the burning was almost gone, the cold with it. She saw only darkness around them. A thought, just briefly, as if of no great concern, flashed through her mind. Was she dying? Ironic. She smiled and saw herself collapsing from a disconcertingly aerial view, saw the Doctor catch her as she finished the story.

"Live."

The light drained, and she watched herself die. Why was she so sad about it? Wasn't that what she had wanted not two days ago?

The Doctor had found her on the top of a service elevator dangling beside the face of Big Ben. He just appeared out of nowhere, saying something to himself about giant clocks being brilliant. When he saw her, when he realized what she was doing, he was furious. The Doctor literally swept her off her feet and carried her right inside the TARDIS without a second thought, lecturing the entire way.

He'd never shut up since, in fact. Not for more than a few minutes. In the 48 hours she'd known him, he'd never stopped showing her exactly what she would be missing, showing her the wonder of the world, worlds, around her.

Now Anna shook a head that had no real substance, feeling herself letting go. She closed her eyes, ready to go on, ready to die, only to have something seize her none too kindly.

Anna opened her eyes in a sort of half-panic, expecting some new alien ready to harm her or the Doctor.

All she saw was a strange man in the Doctors clothes. He was frowning, his face awkwardly forming a stern expression.

"What did I tell you about giving up your life? It's precious, so precious. What do I have to do to make that stick?" The man, the Doctor, asked taking her face in his hands. And in that moment, as he guided her back into her body with a gentle pressure on her shoulders, she knew it was a lesson that she wouldn't soon forget.


End file.
